


It's Only Forever, Not Long at All

by Bouncey



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 80's Music, Alternate Universe - Labyrinth Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ciri as Toby, Eventual Romance, Fae Magic, Fluff, Geralt turns into an owl, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Goblin King!Geralt, Gratuitous 80's references, Happier Ending Than the Movie, It's 1989 Kids, Jaskier as Sarah, Kidnapping, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, References to Depression, Stealing your crush's sister counts as flirting right?, the babe with the power, what's a Canon?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncey/pseuds/Bouncey
Summary: Just as he was about to lurch forward and check that Ciri was still safe in her crib, the french windows that led to his parents’ personal deck blew open, forcing him to take a step back. Jaskier blinked rapidly and waited for the curtains to settle. When he could finally see clearly again he took another frightened step back; there was a man standing in front of the open window.“Who the hell are you?”The man blinked, seemingly surprised by the question. “I’m Geralt...the Goblin King? You just summoned me to take your sister away.”(The Labyrinth/Witcher crossover that nobody asked for but I wanted to write anyway)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 80
Kudos: 256





	1. The Sky Within Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [limrx (sparrowkeating)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowkeating/gifts).



> I got this idea stuck in my head and now it won't leave until I write it.
> 
> These characterizations do NOT match up with the original Labyrinth movie exactly because that wouldn't work with the ending I have planned, so be warned! Yes, there is an age disparity. Yes, I address it.
> 
> For those of you who are like "Hey, aren't you already working on another unfinished story?"   
> The answer is yes! I am! But since I have the chapter summaries already plotted out and planned, you don't have to worry about either one going unfinished. I intend to have Knight finished by the end of August and this finished by the beginning of September at the latest.
> 
> Shout out to limrx on Tumblr for being a really cool human being and also for making me some art that partially inspired the fic!

May the gods damn those _ eyes.  _

Geralt couldn’t get them out of his head. 

They were blue, so intensely blue; like the sky over the ocean or the first blooming cornflowers of spring. Brighter than any shade found within the borders of the Goblin Kingdom; Geralt’s kingdom, which he ruled with a brooding expression and an iron fist. No King of such renown and stature should be so powerless before a mere color. Especially if that color only existed in the irises of a selfish, silly, strong-willed mortal boy of eighteen. Even  _ if  _ that boy was clever and imaginative and rather  _ pretty. No _ , Geralt shook his head to clear it.  _ None of that. _

The King himself was nearing his hundredth birthday, after all. He should be looking for a suitable match within his own society. He should be throwing grand balls and parties. He should be reaching out to the Court of Flowers, the Nymphs, or even the Trolls, asking about the eligibility of their royal children. 

Those were the things he  _ should _ be doing. But Geralt was never one to do what he should. That’s what made him an excellent Goblin King. Goblins and sprites were fickle, mischievous creatures and so was he. It all worked out rather well.

Even though there were matters to attend to at court and audiences to be had that afternoon, the temptation to see  _ him _ again - see those  _ eyes _ again - was too great. With a sigh of self-disappointment and a hastily muttered incantation, Geralt transformed from a tall Fae man to a snowy owl. Usually he preferred to take the form of a large white wolf when running such errands, but the world his object of affection inhabited was not necessarily kind to large wolves that roamed the parks and sidewalks.

The owl would suffice.

* * *

Jaskier was at the park. The summer between graduating high school and heading off to college had been incredibly boring so far. All he did was babysit his little sister and write songs about being lonely. _Oh, such loneliness that only the ancient poets could have encompassed such a feeling properly!_ he thought. He came here to get some time alone and clear his head. On days when it was particularly gloomy, like today, he practiced the protagonist’s final monologue from his favorite play. There was nobody around to hear or judge him except for the ducks that swam in circles around the pond; and the white barn owl that had perched atop some topiary, uncharacteristically close. Owls that large weren’t common and this one seemed to be watching him intently with its wide, yellow eyes. He shrugged it off as another one of life’s little mysteries and started on his recitation. 

“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen. For...uhm. For my -  _ shit.  _ I can never remember this part.” He dug the little red hardcover script from his jacket pocket and peered through the highlighted, annotated lines until he found the one he was looking for. “Aha! For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great! You have no power over me.”

The bells in the clocktower of a nearby church began to toll and Jaskier listened with ever-anxious ears as a sixth and final  _ clang  _ rang out over the park. He glanced down at his plastic Doogie Howser watch to confirm the hour and grimaced. “Ah, fuck.”

The lanky teen took off at a run, hoping to make it home before the rain clouds that hung low over the small town’s streets finally let loose their bounty. Alas, it was not meant to be. Buckets of water came crashing down from the heavens and soaked Jaskier to the bone as he sprinted up his driveway. His stepmother would be absolutely furious if he tracked mud into the house. It would be safer to go through the garage’s side door and toss his wet clothes directly into the dryer there first. Then he could grab some clean stuff from the hamper and take over his babysitting duties like he’d promised. “Julian,” Karen frowned as he approached. She was standing on the porch in her crisp black dress with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. He hated it when she called him by his given name and not his favorite nickname. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, I got distracted by a street performer.”

“I’m sure,” she rolled her eyes. “Your father and I would like to leave soon, if you don’t mind. We have reservations that are growing closer by the second. Just toss your stuff-”

“In the dryer, I know. I’ll grab some clean pants from the basket and head inside to get Ciri.”

“Mhm.”

She swiveled away and marched back into the house. Jaskier stuck his tongue out at her retreating form and shook the water out of his bangs. “Bitch.”

Karen was nothing like his mother. She was short-tempered, decisive, rigid, anxious, punctual, and constant. She had stayed by his father’s side through the car accident and the endless months physical therapy that followed. She nursed him through the pain of several surgeries and the withdrawal he suffered at the hands of poorly prescribed, addictive medications. Jaskier didn’t even know if his mother, the flighty first wife, had even sent a consolatory card. It didn’t seem likely, knowing her. 

Despite Karen’s good qualities and her dedication to his father, she and Jaskier never really got along. He was fanciful and imaginative while she was calculated and direct. They clashed naturally, like water and oil. The stepmother and stepson could be amicable and even affectionate when the time called for it, like family get-togethers and holiday meals, but they didn’t often spend voluntary time alone. And that was fine with them. As long as everyone (namely Ciri and his father) was happy, so was Jaskier.

“Alright, is Ciri asleep?” he asked, stepping through the side door and into the house. He looked like an idiot prince from a fairy story; he’d grabbed a pair of straight-legged denim jeans and his favorite white shirt with the poet sleeves. For dramatic effect he’d topped off the goofy ensemble with a gold embroidered costume vest from one of his school plays. “If she’s not then I can feed her and burp her after you guys leave.”

“She’s already in the bassinet,” his father smiled. “So you should be all set. Sorry for interrupting your plans.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, Dad. I didn’t realize what time it was and I almost made you late for dinner.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Of course not,” Jaskier smiled. His father nodded and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Karen was probably already in the car. “Go, before you  _ are  _ late for your reservations. Have a good night.”

“See you later, Jask.”

“Later, Dad. Drive safe.”

Jaskier waved them off from the front porch before retreating to his room for the rest of the night. If Ciri was already asleep down the hall then he could spend some quality time with his record collection. He closed his bedroom door behind him and turned on the baby monitor that sat on his desk in case Ciri woke up and needed to be fed, changed, or snuggled. She was a relatively calm baby, and for that he was thankful. His fuse was short, like his mother’s had apparently been, and he didn’t do well around loud or fussy kids. It was overwhelming. He liked organized chaos and orchestrated sound. 

“Hmmm, who shall we listen to tonight?”

Long, nimble fingers flipped through the small box of records, slowing only when Jaskier caught sight of something he wanted to consider.  _ Disraeli Gears? Too relaxed. Rio? No, too loud. Hunting High and Low? Nah. I don’t usually get the house to myself so I have to make good use of it. Wham? Perfect!  _ He placed the record on his turntable and turned the volume down. He could hear it just fine without waking up Cirilla; he didn’t have to  _ blast  _ his music to enjoy the glorious golden gones of George Michael. 

George Michael was almost as cute as Morten Harket. Almost. But Morten’s  _ hair  _ was so  _ good _ that Jaskier couldn’t love another over him. It was simply impossible. David Bowie was a close third, of course. 

As the song moved towards the chorus, Jaskier wrapped his pink feather boa around his neck and started to dance around.

“ Wake me up before you go-go,

Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo!

Wake me up before you go-go,

I don't want to miss it when you hit that high!”

* * *

Geralt didn’t always understand why his current favorite mortal chose to listen to such strange music, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. This song was better than the whiny, sad one he’d been listening to the other day. He'd been so sad then. He had cried for several hours all alone in that room; his family hadn't returned from their other business yet. What were the words to the sad song again? He knew the chorus talked about  _ time after time  _ but that was all he could remember. It didn’t matter right now, though.

Jaskier wasn’t sad today.

No, today he was dancing around his room with that fluffy pink thing around his neck. He was laughing and smiling like usual. He was  _ happy.  _ Geralt  _ liked _ seeing him happy; although he couldn’t exactly figure out why. 

* * *

Ciri woke up around ten in the evening. Jaskier could hear her crying down the hall and sighed heavily, pulling himself away from the book he’d been reading. “I’m coming, princess. Just a moment.”

He jogged down the hall to his parents’ room, where Cirilla was standing on two chubby legs in her bassinet and  _ screaming.  _ It was a shrill, high sound that pierced Jaskier’s sensitive ears and grated his nerves. He pulled her into his arms and began to bounce, “Cirilla, darling, please calm down for me.”

“Waaaaah!”

“Would you like a story? Would that settle your delicate sensibilities?”

She cried out again but this time it was a little quieter.  _ Ah, so she does just want someone to talk to her.  _ Jaskier’s half-sister was only eight months old but he knew she partially understood what was going on around her. Telling her stories and singing softly usually calmed her right down during one of her fits, but she seemed rather determined tonight and continued to sob and warble into his ear until he started speaking. She couldn’t really understand what the story  _ meant,  _ though, and Jaskier allowed himself to be slightly self indulgent.

“Once upon a time there was a beautiful young man whose evil grandmother always made him stay home with the baby. I know you love your Mama very much so I won’t go dragging Karen through the mud here, Ciri, but you must know that we don’t get along. Anyway, this time it was an evil grandmother instead of an evil stepmother. She didn’t like the young man because he was different; he liked boys instead of girls and that made her uncomfortable even though it wasn’t any of her business.” 

_ Okay Jask, you’re getting preachy and this is an infant. Just let yourself be gay, nobody’s home.  _ He bounced his sister gently in his arms and continued his story: 

“The evil and homophobic old lady forced him to work all day, every day, and treated him like a slave. What the grandmother  _ didn’t  _ know was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the boy and given him certain powers. One night, when the baby was being particularly fussy, he called on the goblins for help!  ‘ _ Say your right words,’ _ the goblins said to the boy. ‘ _ And we will take care of the child for you.’  _ But he knew that if they took the baby away, they would turn her into a goblin!” 

He tossed Ciri a short distance into the air and she squealed happily when he caught her again. 

"So he kept his mouth shut and told the goblins to go away. He stayed vigilant for many weeks, making sure to never say the Right Words. He didn't want his little sister to be turned into a goblin baby. _However,_ one night when he was very tired and very short-tempered, he made a tragic mistake. In a fit of anger the boy dropped to his knees and cried out ‘I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now!’”

There was a bright flash of lightning and Jaskier clutched Ciri against his chest, but she didn't fuss. He told her another short story and listened as her breathing slowed and softened. After fifteen or twenty minutes of bouncing and mindless chatter he was able to lay her in the bassinet and turn towards the door without her screaming and making grabby hands. It was  _ extra  _ unusual behavior for her because Cirilla  _ hated  _ storms and there was a rather loud one raging outside. He had just turned off the light and was about to leave the room when he heard an unfamiliar coughing sound from behind him.  _ Oh, absolutely fucking not.  _ He’d seen enough horror movies to know where this was going. He flipped the light back on.

Nothing happened. 

He flicked the switch up and down quickly but the room stayed dark and shadowy. Figures were shuffling around the edge of his vision, staying just far enough away that he couldn't make out any details. There were grunts, chuckles, and snuffling sounds coming from every corner of the room. Jaskier's heart leapt into his throat. “What the fu-”

Just as he was about to lurch forward and check that Ciri was still safe in her crib, the french windows that led to his parents’ personal deck blew open, forcing him to take a step back. A wave of cool air blew in and  _ was that glitter? Was the air full of blue glitter?  _ Jaskier blinked rapidly and waited for the curtains to settle. When he could finally see clearly again he took another frightened step back; there was a whole-ass  _ man  _ standing in front of the open window. The moon illuminated him from the back and Jaskier’s mouth went dry as he took the stranger’s outfit in. Those were some _tight_ black pants. That was a _dramatic_ and unnecessary amount of cape. It was almost frightening. The man’s white hair spiked up around the top of his head and hung loose on the bottom, brushing the tops of his  _ broad,  _ strong soldiers. His eyebrows tilted up at the ends and accentuated the angles of his sharp cheekbones and jawline. His chin was dimpled and the eyes that held Jaskier still with a piercing gaze were a curious shade of gold.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man blinked, seemingly surprised by the question. “I’m Geralt...the Goblin King? You just summoned me to take your sister away.”

“Oh my god. Oh, shit. Uhm, can I have my sister back, please? I was only telling her a story. I really didn’t mean to, like,  _ summon _ you or your cronies.”

“What’s said is said,” the man intoned. His voice was just as sexy as his face, deep and rumbling like distant thunder. He looked kind of  _ older,  _ though, which was mildly concerning. Ah well, there was no rule against looking.  _ Focus, Jaskier.  _

“I didn’t mean to call you here! It was a total accident!”

“You didn’t?”

“Of course not! I love Ciri! I wouldn’t wish her away to be turned into a  _ goblin.  _ I thought those words were just from a  _ play.  _ I was just telling her a bedtime story. ”

“Many pieces of great fiction are based on a kernel of truth.”

“Usually the truth is a historical event and not an  _ entire magical person _ . I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I'd really like to have Cirilla back if you don't mind.”

“It’s far too late, now, Jaskier. Those little miscreants have probably already taken your sister away to my castle.”

“I have to get her back, please. Is there any way I can get her back?”

“Well…”

* * *

_ Oh, this was too perfect.  _ By no fault or trickery of his own, the mortal boy had summoned him! “You should probably go back to your games and your books, Jaskier. There’s no way you can defeat my labyrinth and rescue her in time.”

“Your what? What can't I defeat?”

Geralt tried to distract him. The Goblin King waved his gloved hand and felt the rush of magic as a crystal orb appeared in his fingers. “I have a gift for you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a crystal. Nothing more, nothing less. If you hold it this way, however,” Geralt tilted it and held it out to Jaskier. Those blue eyes were trained on the images it held, images that Geralt cemented into the orb for his own perusal later. “It will show you all of your dreams. This isn’t an ordinary gift for an ordinary boy who takes care of a screaming baby, though. Forget about her, Jaskier, and the crystal is yours.”

“It’s a lovely gift, Your Highness, but it’s not my sister. I’m sure she must be very frightened and confused. You mentioned some kind of labyrinth? I'd love to try my hand at defeating it? You said _defeating_ it, right? I'll do whatever it takes. I really must get her back.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier was staring up at him with those  _ eyes  _ and he was worrying his plump bottom lip with his teeth. Geralt was more than a little smitten (not that he cared to admit it). He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drive the mortal boy away and end this fascination for good or offer him the labyrinth and hope his bright mind figured it out in time. All things considered, it was Jaskier’s choice to make. The boy was growing anxious, his quick mortal heart accelerating even further as he stared up at the Goblin King. “Your Highness?”

“She’s there.” Geralt turned and pointed out through the open window. Jaskier’s stormy suburban backyard had been replaced by a sprawling stretch of sand and stone. In the distance was an elaborate maze. His eyes flicked between Geralt and the endless twists and turns built from hedge and stone. “You have thirteen hours to complete my labyrinth if you want to get your sister back, otherwise she becomes one of us. You can still turn back, before it’s too late.”

The mortal man rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Geralt noted, with no small amount of amusement, that Jaskier had also cocked his hip to the side. “I’ll see you shortly, Your Highness. When I’m picking up my sister.”

"Hmm."

Jaskier took off towards the closest wall of the maze, his eyes narrowed and his heartbeat steady once again. The Goblin King smirked to himself. This would be fun.


	2. My Baby Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And so my baby,   
> Crying hard as babe could cry,  
> What could I do?
> 
> My baby's love had gone  
> And left my baby blue,  
> Nobody knew...
> 
> What kind of magic spell to use?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I haven't forgotten this story. I just want to finish Earthly Knight first so I can really make this one fun and detailed. 
> 
> Also this is where things really start to diverge from the original Labyrinth plot; Jaskier is significantly less uptight/self-centered as Sarah. I just couldn't make myself write him that way. This is supposed to be a very soft, sweet re-telling.

Geralt had been correct in asserting that the goblins already had Ciri hidden away in the castle when Jaskier asked to have her back. By the time the Goblin King returned to his palace and changed into something significantly more comfortable than the leather-and-sparkles ensemble from before, the goblins had constructed a little play area for Ciri to wander in without getting hurt. Candlewic and Kleg were chasing a chicken around in circles while the mortal baby giggled delightedly as she watched. Geralt made his way over to a large, ornate chair in the center of the room and plopped comfortably onto it. He pulled the crystal he’d offered Jaskier out of his pocket and twirled it back and forth between his hands a few times out of habit.

“Keep her entertained for awhile, I’m going to be busy here,” he ordered the goblins. 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And make sure the boy doesn’t get too far too quickly.”

“Do you want him to fail, Your Highness?”

Geralt tilted his head to the side as if considering his answer.  _ Of course I don’t want him to fail; I want him to succeed. I want him to have everything he’s ever wanted and more. I want to offer him an eternity at my side when he makes it through the Labyrinth in time and saves this gurgling, messy  _ thing  _ in my throne room.  _ He didn’t say that out loud, of course. Instead he merely shrugged and muttered: “Perhaps.”

As his subjects took on the job of entertaining their ‘captive’, the Goblin King settled back into his large, comfortable throne and focused his magic on the contents of the orb.  _ What did Jaskier dream about? What did he want most in life?  _ Geralt knew what  _ he  _ wanted; he wanted the mortal boy as his consort. He asked himself ‘why’ every single day and he still couldn’t quite find a solid answer. Falling head over heels for some random mortal had been a total accident and a tragic mistake. 

When he’d seen the younger man for the first time, when he’d gotten a strong whiff of the spicy-honey smell of him and seen the look of curious terror in those blue eyes, Geralt knew he was a goner. He’d been in his wolf form on that fateful day, searching the woods near the mortal’s home for one of his missing subjects. Jaskier had been up in a tree, reading from his copy of  _ The Labyrinth  _ and trying to memorize one of the less conventional monologues. 

The Goblin King hated that little book. Some self-interested mortal girl who’d run his Labyrinth many years before had turned the experience into a play. A  _ bad  _ play. She wrote of her epic escape from the Goblin Kingdom with her baby brother clutched safely in her arms. She wrote of the castle crumbling down around her as she fled back to her home. She wrote of her longing for the mysterious Fae man who had once loved her and given her  _ certain powers. _ It was tragic and romantic and endlessly sad; it was also a lie. That particular girl had failed. She’d given up after only six hours and returned to her comfortable human life, now as an only child. 

The boy had noticed the King’s curious staring, of course. Who wouldn’t eventually see the enormous snow-white wolf sitting directly beneath them, wagging its tail happily like a normal lapdog? 

“Shit,” the young man had whispered. Even cursing, Jaskier's voice sounded melodious and sweet to Geralt's sensitive animal ears. “Oh fucking shit. Please don’t climb this tree and eat me, good Sir Wolf. Fuck, Jask, stay calm. Can wolves even climb?”

Geralt had shaken his head, answering the question on instinct. Jaskier had frozen. 

“Okay, well, I’m certainly never hanging out with Mark again. He may be cute but his weed is fucked if I’m hallucinating a giant white wolf that speaks English after three little puffs. Oh _shit shit shit._ ”

The Goblin King had loped away after that, leaving the boy to calm down and exit his tree when the coast was clear. Even though he could still smell the boy’s fear from his hiding place in the underbrush, Jaskier never ran. He skipped from the forest as if confident that Geralt wouldn’t follow him. 

The King  _ had  _ followed him, though. Geralt had morphed easily from wolf to owl and taken to the sky for ease of movement. He'd completely forgotten about his missing goblin subject and soared overhead all the way from the wooded park to Jaskier’s pale-blue suburban house. He'd watched the boy go upstairs to his room, put on a strange kind of music, and cry. He had cried quietly; from the way he muffled his sobs and kept his eyes from getting too red, the King could infer that this kind of heartbreak was practiced. The boy felt this sadness often and kept it hidden. 

_You precious thing,_ Geralt had thought to himself, his own heart cracking down the center rather suddenly, _When I could have attacked you in the woods you felt fear and did not show it. What is it that makes you so sad and afraid in the safety of your own home, little mortal? What is it that pierces your very soul so painfully and wracks your lungs with sobs?_

Geralt had to know. He wanted to _fix_ it. He’d visited almost every night after that just to observe the boy's feelings. The human was fascinating and full of secrets. He liked other men, for one. That fact alone filled Geralt with hope and explained part of his mournful crying jags; other people in this world were disapproving. They were hateful and angry that people like Jaskier felt love in the same way as them. Love they thought, through their mystical texts and rule books, was limited only to them and those they deemed acceptable. Despite the sadness and hurt this world heaped on his object of affection, Geralt couldn't help but feel triumphant that Jaskier felt the way he did.

_ I have a chance,  _ he’d grinned.  _ I can be with him. _

Shortly after the third month of Geralt's infatuation with him, Jaskier started having some  _ really  _ odd experiences. He could will the streetlights to change faster when bullies were approaching. He could close doors from across the room when he wanted to cry in private. He could predict the next song that would play on his FM radio. Geralt had, unwittingly and quite accidentally, given Jaskier _certain_ _powers_ after all.

But that had been another three months ago. 

Now, as he peered into the crystal, Geralt realized he hadn’t been ready to know what Jaskier _really_ felt when alone in his bedroom.  _ Loneliness _ was the first thing to breach the King’s senses. There was such an intense longing for the love of another person that it almost knocked him from his throne entirely. 

_ Why does the boy hurt like this!?  _ Geralt wondered.  _ Who could have done this to him? His heart is so full of desperation and hopelessness; does he truly think he cannot be loved? That those hateful people are right about everything? Damn them. Damn them all. _

He watched with narrowed eyes as Jaskier’s dreams solidified from concepts to images on the orb's smooth surface. 

There was his mortal darling, dressed handsomely and laughing with a tall, broad-shouldered, and _faceless_ stranger.  There was the baby girl, smiling and happy in the arms of her parents. There was Jaskier again, this time arm-in-arm with the faceless person as they walked across the grassy lawn of a huge brick building. The sign above the central door read: _Oxenfurt University._ There was Jaskier, surrounded by people in fancy dress, twirling across a dance-floor in the arms of a strong and oddly familiar figure while soft, lilting music played in the background. 

_ I can give him these things,  _ Geralt knew.  _ If he can accept my heart and my magic, I will do this for him. I will make every fanciful, passing thought a sparkling reality. I would lay down my life to see him smile like he does in his dreams. I’ll spin him moments of gold. I’ll paint him Valentine evenings. I’ll do anything he asks so long as he laughs like that again. For me. _

The Goblin King came to another rather intense realization as he perused the Labyrinth-play-themed fantasies swirling around Jaskier’s lovely head. It paralyzed him where he sat:  _ I’m in love with a mortal who expects me to play the villain in this whole charade.  _

_ Fuck. _

* * *

Jaskier skipped up to the large red stone wall and gazed down the length of it in either direction. No doors. How was he supposed to start the Labyrinth if he couldn’t even enter it? Kind of a bullshit way to run things, if you asked him. 

Just as he was about to grab a handful of vines and start climbing his way over, a grumpy-looking Dwarf came flying around the corner, muttering angrily to himself and spraying the vines on the wall with some kind of sparkly powder. Jaskier waved and yelled out a friendly, “Oh, hello!” 

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Julian, but you can call me Jaskier. Who are  _ you _ ?”

“I am the most honorable and unwanted Tellica Lunngrevink Letorte. You can call me Dudu. Everybody else does.”

“Lovely to make your acquaintance,” the human man beamed. “Would you be so kind as to tell me where the door is?”

“Which door?”

“The door to the maze.”

“You’re not very good at asking specific questions,” Dudu hinted. Jaskier smiled widely again and nodded, his floppy brown hair smacking against his forehead as he did. 

“I think I’m catching on. I have to say the Right Words,” he mused. “Good sir Dudu, where is the door to enter the King’s labyrinth so that I may begin my trial?”

“Right there,” the Dwarf smiled, sweeping his arm widely to the left. There, where there had been only stone before, was a small oak door with a golden handle. Jaskier bowed deeply and dramatically, thanked Tellico Lunngrevink Letorte most eloquently, and made his way through the door and into the maze. He wondered for a moment at the spike of heat that shot up his arm when his fingers gripped the handle.  _ Magic, perhaps?  _ Dudu watched in mild amusement as the portal disappeared behind the joyful mortal, fading back into the stone as if it had never been there at all. 

Maybe it hadn’t been. 

It  _ was _ magic, after all.

Jaskier decided to go left first and started jogging towards what he  _ thought  _ was the end of the wall. After a few minutes of never getting any closer, however, he realized that this was yet another tricky obstacle. He paused to catch his breath. “Well, there has to be an answer to this.”

“Ello!”

Jaskier’s head snapped to the side, where a small blue worm was perched on a vine. A small blue worm  _ wearing a fucking scarf.  _ “Did you just say  _ hello _ ?”

“No, I said  _ Ello,  _ but that’s close enough.”

“You’re a worm aren’t you?” 

_ Well no shit, Sherlock.  _ Jaskier mentally slapped himself in the face.  _ Duh he’s a fuckin’ worm. _

“Yeah,” the worm seemed amused by Jaskier’s incredibly stupid inquiry. “That’s right.”

“You don’t, by any chance, know the way to through this labyrinth, do you?”

“Who, me? No, I’m just a worm. Why don’t you come inside and meet the missus?”

“No, thank you. I only have thirteen hours to find my sister and this particular illusion is stumping me a bit. Do you have any idea where an opening might be?”

“You haven’t looked around enough, then. This place is  _ full  _ of openings. Why not come in and have a cup of tea?”

“I appreciate your offer, Mr. Worm, but I really do have a deadline to meet. I’m afraid that I get rather chatty over tea and I just don’t have the time today. Perhaps tomorrow, if you don’t mind?” Jaskier gave the worm his home address (just in case) and listened as the worm offered him directions. 

“Just across the way is a door. Walk forward and I promise you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

The mortal man gave the wall across from him a good look. It appeared solid from his current angle, but if he just held his hands out in front of him and stepped closer...there wasn’t any wall. Another two steps revealed a set of tunnels going off in either direction. He whooped and turned towards the worm, offering a respectful bow yet again. “Thank you very much, Mr. Worm. I must be off.”

He turned to go right and the worm stopped him, “Don’t go that way.”

“What?”

The worm shook his head a little and repeated himself: “I  _ said  _ don’t go that way.”

Jaskier rounded to the left and smiled. “Thank you!” 

The worm watched him go before turning and yelling inside to his bemused wife, “If he’d have kept on going down that way, he’d have gone straight to the castle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You remind me of the babe! (What babe?)  
> The babe with the power! (What power?)  
> The power of Reviews! 
> 
> Heyyy tomorrow is my birthday so you should write me a comment :)


	3. Not Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short again but my laptop died so I'm writing on borrowed time.

The high walls of the maze were carved out of a rough, sandy stone that seemed to glow almost red beneath the light of the strange and otherworldly sun. Jaskier ran his hand along its gritty surface as he walked, scouting out every possible path before choosing one and moving slightly forward toward the castle. He wasn’t sure what kind of creatures had been left to roam the maze this time; the girl in the play had nearly been eaten by a ghoul before a kind, knightly dog stepped in to help. Was that a detail added only for drama or was the Goblin King really evil enough to let dangerous, man-eating monsters eat his challengers at will? That seemed like it could be considered cheating. 

Only when Jaskier turned back to switch directions did he realize the labyrinth was _changing as he went._ He kicked a rock and watched it skitter off towards a potted plant. He rotated in a slow circle and realized he was trapped by shrubbery or stone on all four sides. “Oh, well that’s just rude! The layout of this crazy place can’t just decide to be something else and skitter around behind my back when I’m halfway through actually figuring it out! That’s not playing fair, that’s _definitely_ cheating!”

“That’s right, it’s not fair!” 

Jaskier spun on his sneakered heel yet again, this time coming face to face with a set of doors which had not been there a second ago. Standing in front of either door frame were two sets of guards. The set on the left was wearing only red while the set on the right was dressed in blue. One face peeked out from beneath the rectangular golden shield while another squinted over the top. It was a strange setup in the human’s opinion but what did he know; maybe it was cultural?

“You should try one of these doors,” the Red guard suggested. “One of them leads to the castle and the other one leads to-”

“Ba ba ba bum!” 

Red shot Blue a quick glare for his interruption but then finished with, “Certain death!”

“Which is which, may I ask?”  
“You may ask, but you may only ask them,” Red explained. The knights above the shield suddenly looked to Jaskier with expectant eyes. He shifted from one foot to the other for a moment, gazing between them.

“You can only ask one of us,” this new Red explained after a pause. “That’s the rules. One of us  _ always  _ tells the truth and one of us  _ always  _ lies.”

“He always lies!” Blue accused.

“I do not! I tell the truth!” Red argued.

“Oh what a terrible lie!”

The bickering continued on like that until the mortal teen grew tired of their pointless muttering and marched up to the Red one. He flicked his bangs back out of his face and glared the strange creature down. “All right, answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’: would he tell me that _ this door _ leads to the castle?”

Jaskier knew that if this was the lying guard it would be his job to try and steer the mortal in the wrong direction; he would falsely claim that his compatriot (the truthful one) would indicate this as the Castle Door. It would be a lie, of course, making the Red door the door to Certain Death. If this was the truthful guard, then he would tell Jaskier the truth; the Blue guard would  _ lie  _ and say that this was the right door. 

The guards whispered to each other for a moment, clearly just as confused as Jaskier had been just a moment ago, before the Red one finally nodded and gave a half-hearted. “Yes?”

“Then this is the door to Certain Death and the other will take me to Geralt’s castle.”

“He could be telling the truth,” Blue argued. 

“But then you wouldn’t be,” the boy smiled, “So really, all things considered, it would be easiest for everyone if you let me discover the correct answer by going through the door I chose.”

“I suppose he’s right,” Blue nodded. He reached a pawed hand out from behind the shield and unlocked the door, letting it swing open behind him. “You may pass.”

“This is a piece of cake!” Jaskier grinned. He took two steps past the strange dog-person dressed in blue and gasped in surprise as the ground opened up beneath him. He dropped through the air for several long seconds before several pairs of strangely textured humanoid hands latched onto him, suspending him in the air. Lumpy green fingers dug into his skin through the thin layers of his clothes, gripping tightly to his arms and legs. A few of them were even supporting the soles of his shoes as he dangled in their midst. 

Every inch of the wall was covered by the oddly moving hands. 

“Holy shit! Put me down!”

A few sets of mismatched hands formed lumpy, makeshift faces. “Do you want to go down?”

They let go and Jaskier plummeted another two or three feet. “NO!”

He was grasped again, firmly, and his descent stopped once more. “You don’t want to go down?”

“I mean, maybe? Where will I end up if I go up? How are you talking, anyway?”

“We’re the Helping Hands,” a new and crudely built face supplied. “It’s our job to assist the King when dealing with prisoners. We can speak because we are meant to speak; just as you are here as you are meant to be here. So tell us, Human Jaskier, are you going up or down?”  
“What happens if I go up?”

“You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

“Just so you know,” the human added, “I’m not Geralt’s prisoner. I’m here to win back my sister.”

“It doesn’t matter much to us what you are,” another face added. “Human or faerie, challenger or prisoner; you must make a choice. Pick a direction, would you? It’s hard to support a mortal body for so long without cramping.”

“Well...now that you mention it, since my feet are pointed that way anyway, it would be easiest for you to send me down I suppose.”

“He chose down!” A loud, giddy voice suddenly cackled. Panic spiked through the human’s nervous system and his arms swung out around him, searching for purchase in case they dropped him again. Another few sets of hands repeated those words, giggling maniacally all the while. He was pushed and shoved with great excitement towards the bottom of the darkening tunnel. He reached and grasped for any stability that he could but the hands merely batted him away. 

“Did I choose wrong?” he cried.

“Too late now!”

There was more loud laughter before the human was deposited rather unceremoniously into a small, dark room. He collapsed to his knees with a grunt of mild pain; dust puffed up around him and made his eyes water. The trapdoor he’d fallen through slammed shut above him, silencing the laughter of the Helping Hands and effectively trapping him in the darkness. He could barely see and it smelled strange. Like overripe fruit; like peaches.

He breathed in through his mouth and sighed dramatically. 

“Well...fuck.”

* * *

Geralt observed Jaskier’s predicament through one of his crystal orbs with no small amount of glee. This would be his chance to show up and prove himself to be  _ the good guy.  _ He could win the mortal back to his side by breaking his own rules and allowing Jaskier to continue rather than sending him back to the beginning of the entire maze to start over. If anyone else had fallen into one of his oubliettes, Geralt certainly would have made them run it again from the top of the hill.

Jaskier, however, was a special case.

The King watched through his crystal as the boy stood and tried to find a door or tunnel. He’d wiped his grimy hands against his face to clear some of the sweat away and a dirty smudge now graced the pale skin of his cheek. The Goblin King’s gloved hand itched to reach through the space between them and wipe it away. To caress that soft and darling face just once...

No one so perfect deserved to be dirty for a second of their life. 

_ I have it bad,  _ he sighed.  _ Ah well, nothing to be done about it now.  _

He was about to magick himself into the oubliette and free the boy with a long and dramatic monologue about the Right Words when Dudu appeared rather suddenly, opening the door of the small stone chamber and lighting a candle. Geralt frowned and returned to the throne. This wasn’t exactly what he'd had in mind for the boy, but he could work with it. Interruption or no, Jaskier deserved to be properly and romantically wooed. 

_"Who's there?" the boy called. Dudu answered and Jaskier's look of relief was sweet. "Oh thank goodness. For a moment I thought it would be one of Geralt's creatures."_

Geralt wondered which creatures he was referring to before remembering the accursed play. There were no such monsters in Geralt's realm; that had been added purely for the angst.

_"I knew you were going to be trouble when I met you. All mortals are trouble but you seemed filled to the brim with it," the doppler continued. "Let's get out of here before Geralt finds you and tosses you headfirst into the Bog of Eternal Stench?"_

_"The what?" Jaskier giggled._

Geralt loved the sound. His heart thudded madly in his chest when he heard it. If he had a dream crystal of his own, it would be filled with Jaskier's giggling and smiling. 

_"Don't worry about it now, lad, I'll explain on the way."_


	4. A Piece of Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagining Geralt of Rivia saying "Nothing, nothing, nothing tra-la-la" killed me.

“I’m supposed to take you back to the beginning of the maze,” Dudu stated. “Them’s the rules. But if you give me one of the pretties around your wrist I might be convinced to help you get further along instead.”

“Could you take me all the way to the castle?” Jaskier asked, face bright and voice hopeful. Dudu shook his head. 

“No, not that far. But I could get you out of this particular pickle without the King coming after you.”

“He would do that?”

“If you fall into an oubliette like this one then you have to go back to the beginning of the labyrinth and start over. That’s the way it’s supposed to go; I’m just being nice and offering you the opportunity to bribe me.”

Jaskier glanced around the small space and shivered, “Is that what this thing is? An oubliette?”

“Do you even know what an oubliette  _ is _ ?” Dud questioned.

Now it was Jaskier’s turn to shake his head ‘no’. 

“Shows how much you know. An oubliette is a place where you put people to forget about them. Next best thing to a dungeon, really.”

“Might as well stay here, then,” Jaskier mumbled quietly to himself.  _ Better than going back to the real world.  _ If he didn’t have to return Ciri to their parents he would have gladly stayed behind in the oubliette. Fuck, he’d let the unfairly sexy King turn Jaskier himself into a creepy little goblin if it meant losing the lonely feeling that came with being gay in the mortal realm. 

He made up his mind and sighed.

“Well then, here,” Jaskier said. He removed one of the thin plastic-and-resin rings from around his wrist and handed it to Dudu, who examined it with glee. “Now shall we exit the tiny, dusty hole in the ground? I have to go rescue my sister and the clock is ticking.”

“Right, yeah, of course my friend.” Dudu pulled a key from around the ring at his belt and unlocked a small red-painted door that hadn’t even existed a moment ago. Jaskier rolled his eyes in fond wonder at the way magic seemed to work in the Goblin King’s twisted fairytale realm and followed the shapeshifter out into a dark, musty smelling tunnel. 

“Beware! Beware!” a loud, tremulous voice called out. The teenager whipped his head around to see where it was coming from and came face-to-face with an enormous carved stone face. It looked like the shoddy replica of an Easter Island statue and his face quirked into a smile before he could register any feeling of fear. The lips moved and the granite eyes widened as it repeated itself. “Beware! Beware!”

“Go back while you still can!” a different statue warned.

“It will soon be too late!” the third disembodied voice chorused.

“Shut up!” Dudu ordered. “We’re just passin’ through.”

“What are they?” Jaskier asked, gesturing around to the hall of mismatched faces.

“False alarms.”

“For the path you take shall lead to certain destruction!” yet another statue boomed out. Jaskier jumped slightly in surprise and the doppler beside him had to suppress a giggle; it wouldn’t be very smart to insult the King’s favorite mortal by laughing at him. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” the halfling snorted back to the enchanted stoneware.

“C’mon,” the statue groaned in its deep voice. “I don’t get to do this very often, after all.”

“Go ahead, since it’s a special occasion,” Jaskier urged. “I’ll act properly frightened and everything.”

“That’s really very sweet of you,” it growled. The blocky face grew stern and it bellowed loudly, “Go ye no further lest ye face certain death!”

“Oh no!” Jaskier cried, clasping his hands over his breastbone and skittering backwards on tiptoe. “Somebody save me from this awful, terrifying place!”

As soon as the human boy spoke some of his Right Words aloud, there was a bright flash of light. The corridor behind Jaskier lit up a vibrant shade of blue and Dudu ducked behind the mortal’s skinny-jean clad legs. The anxious halfling peered around the backs of Jaskier’s thighs as the light faded to reveal a smirking Geralt. The Goblin King stood proudly, with his arms crossed over his chest and one peculiarly groomed eyebrow raised. “You called for me, Jaskier?”

“G-Geralt?”

“How are you liking my labyrinth so far, little mortal?”

The human wasn’t sure if he was being affected by the magic of this strange world or if it was something else entirely, but the way the King said his name felt like a caress. It soothed some of the ache in his tired heart and wound tightly against him in a way that made his face grow flushed and warm. In order to play fair and fight back, however, Jaskier knew he had to play the right part. He put his hand on his hip and cocked it slightly to the side, smiling easily. “It’s a piece of cake, Your Majesty.”

Geralt tried to hide the way Jaskier’s voice saying  _ Your Majesty  _ affected him by circling slowly around the boy. “Really? You haven’t come across any challenges so far?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing? Nothing, tra-la-la?” the King teased. “Well then, let’s see how you like this  _ little slice! _ ”

If Jaskier still wanted him to play the villain then Geralt would comply. There was still plenty of time to woo him with soft words and kind gestures. Only three measly hours had slipped by, after all. After taking up a more threatening stance in front of Jaskier and Dudu, Geralt summoned one of his orbs and tossed it down the length of the long hallway. There was a mechanical rumbling sound and then two large, whirring blades appeared. They were moving closer. 

“The cleaners!” Dudu cried, covering his mouth with his hands. As Geralt disappeared in a burst of smoke and black glitter, Dudu and Jaskier took off down the cavernous hallway at a sprint. The halfling clung to Jaskier’s hand for safety as they ran; “You’ve really gotten his attention now!”

* * *

Geralt popped back into reality in his throne room and immediately tossed himself into the ornate chair like an embarrassed school-child. He whined in disappointment and took a moment to shake his hair out of his eyes. 

“ _ Nothing tra-la-la?!  _ What the  _ fuck  _ did I just say? I was supposed to show up and offer him an easy way out! I was supposed to be romantic and heroic and prove that I wasn’t the villain anymore but the second he looked at me with those  _ eyes  _ and I could feel all that  _ want  _ and all that  _ desire  _ for an adventure I just... _ caved _ . I’m losing my touch! I’m losing my mind! I’m...I’m-”

“Your Majesty?” one of the younger goblins approached. “Are you...alright?”

Geralt realized he’d been two seconds away from saying  _ I’m in love  _ and shook his head once again, this time to clear it. He nodded down at the simpering creature and smiled benevolently, “Yes I’m alright, thank you. How is the human child doing?”

“We gave her a bottle of warm milk like you said. Candlewic got her to burp and now she’s taking a little rest. She makes noises when she sleeps.”

“Human babies are even noisier than goblin babies; thank you for putting her down for a nap. She needs her rest. She has lots of growing to do. Make sure she has good dreams, would you? It’s the least I can do for her,” the King ordered. The goblin nodded and scurried off to fulfill Geralt’s request. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts, feelings, opinions? I'll take anything.


End file.
